Disconnected
He walks down the neon-lit streets of Neo Tokyo, looking with despondent eyes at the people passing by and disappearing forever into his peripherals. Everyone is smiling at their screens, everyone but him. He sees beyond the sensory-overloading façade forced in front of him like all the others.
Why is he different?
The giant lit up billboards, the flashing advertisements, the buzzing of hot perpetually running screens everywhere he looks, the constant overwhelming white noise that attacks him from all directions. When was the last time he actually talked to someone in person? His work, the local hang-outs, the restaurant strip; he doesn’t recognize any of these people. He’s around them every single day yet he can’t recall a single face, except the girl that works a few units down. The one with the dark blue highlights in her long, beautiful hair.
Would she recognize him? Is her bright smile ever directed at anything or anyone beyond the virtual world projected in front of her? Certainly not at him, it never was.
Why can’t he just be happy?
He walks into the bathroom across the office, trying as best he can to ignore reality and conjure up the indifference he needs to make it through this life. Passing each face only makes it worse so he directs his focus to the bathroom door, focusing on that door and that door only. He pushes the door open and is stopped dead in his tracks. He sees a man standing in front of him, tears slowly streaming down the man’s face. There is no one else in the bathroom with him, what he sees is his own reflection in the mirror. Time seems to stand still for a moment before some new feeling overcomes him – something he has never felt before in his life. He can feel his head getting hotter, his heart beating faster, his teeth gritting, his fist clenching. Before he can even process it he throws his fist at the mirror and shatters it with a loud crash. He cries out not only in pain as he stares at his shaking bloodied hand, but in the new emotion that has taken him over: anger.
He storms out from the bathroom, not looking to see if anyone’s attention has been drawn towards his shouts. He doesn’t care. He runs to his unit and quickly grabs his coat, oblivious to the fact that wherever he puts his hand he leaves blood.
Hardly anyone will notice.
As he makes his way down the hall he bumps a familiar shoulder: the girl with the dark blue highlights. He gazes for a moment before realizing that this rare physical contact has caused her gaze to lock onto his. He wants to finally say something to her, he’s waited for this moment for far too long!
Say something, say anything!
But words escape him, nothing could suffice. She wants to say something too, but she can’t.
For the first time in a long time he smiles. He can hardly think right now. He reaches out with his other unbloodied hand and gently takes hers, leading her and weaving through the crowds. They make their way up to the top floor of the apartment complex where he resides. Once inside he slides the fake wall aside and reveals something she has never seen. A hidden room, a room filled with green and blooms of all other colors in the spectrum. An organic mini-paradise teeming with life everywhere they look. It completely contrasts the gray, monotonous surroundings that lay outside the room. There is no screen, no signs, no crowds, and no blaring neon lights in this room. The façade fades away in this room. There are no illusions in this room.
Everything in this room just……….. is.
Who else knows about this place?
Nobody. Nobody except the two of them. This is a simple, pure world, just for them. As they sit under a sakura tree and gaze at their surroundings and breathe the clean air they gently grasp each other’s hands; the warm contact bringing brighter smiles to their faces as their cheeks are filled with a light rouge. Eventually they fall asleep, her head on his shoulder and his cheek resting on her head. For the first time in a long time, they are human again.
They have disconnected.
